


You Might Think

by JackEPeace



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: First there were the exploding heads. Then there's the whole issue with the space bugs. Jemma knows she shouldn't be more upset about the government cutting the funding for her department than she is about an alien invasion but it's been a very trying day. (A Braindead AU)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isloremipsumafterall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isloremipsumafterall/gifts).



> So this story is a (very belated, sorry!!) birthday present for the amazing, awesome, super-cool and super-talented Beej (AKA enkiindlethis on tumblr), who wanted a Braindead AU. So there are lots of references to the late, mostly great, short-lived show Braindead and I maybe had a little too much fun with this? I hope you enjoy! Happy birthday my friend!

It's a perfectly normal day when Lincoln starts telling her about the bugs. They're in the park where they always go to walk and watch people playing chess or kids playing hopscotch or whatever and Daisy can already tell that there's something strange about Lincoln. Stranger than usual and that's saying a lot because she's always considered him to be a pretty strange dude. He's fidgety, nervous and a little pale and sweaty.

Finally, Daisy can't take it anymore. "Lincoln, what's wrong with you?"

No one would ever say that 'tact' was her middle name.

Lincoln looks at her, nervous and relieved at the same time. "Haven't you noticed? There's something weird going on? Can't you feel it? Can't you tell?" The words are tumbling out of his mouth like he can't hold onto them. He puts his hands on Daisy's arms and holds onto her instead. "I can feel them inside."

Daisy's eyes widen. "Feel what?"

They sit on a bench and Lincoln seems to relax somewhat, as though happy to finally have someone to pour all this out to. "The bugs."

"Bugs?"

Lincoln nods. "Space bugs."

"Space bugs?" Daisy doesn't know what to make of this back and forth.

Another nod. "Aliens."

Daisy almost repeats the word again, just to see what Lincoln would say next.

But that's the moment when Lincoln's head explodes.

It's not so much a normal day after that.

* * *

 

Jemma Simmons is early for her meeting with the congressman but that suits her just fine because she'd much rather be early than late. Not that she thinks either will make a difference. Congressman Garrett's secretary tells her to take a seat and so she does, plonking herself down in one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs with a handful of people waiting for their appointed meeting time. The news is on and she casts it only a cursory glance before opening her agenda and going through her talking points. One can never be too prepared.

The two men in suits, sitting in the chairs close to Jemma's, are talking about the news story with the amusement of people who are glad it's not happening to them. "Can you believe that shit?" One of them asks in a tone that suggests his enjoyment. "His head just exploded. Right there in the middle of the park."

Jemma grimaces and the men chuckle and she looks up from her notes doubtfully. Not because of the laughing but because of the fact that they're talking about a man's head exploding. Impossible. Not that they asked her opinion.

"I heard about that yesterday," the man's companion says with a shrug of his shoulders. "A bunch of people witnessed it I guess. Crazy. Like some Michael Bay movie."

Jemma rolls her eyes and glances toward the news. Unsurprisingly the top story for the moment is the tale of the exploding head, which still has her a little skeptical, thank you very much. The news anchor is talking over pre-recorded footage of the scene from yesterday: people gathered around behind the caution tape, paramedics wheeling a stretcher into the back of ambulance, a police officer talking to an upset young woman with blood still on her forehead and jacket. Certainly not the type of thing that inspires Jemma to laugh in the middle of a congressman's waiting room.

"Dr. Simmons," the secretary says and Jemma gets to her feet, "you can go right this way."

She holds tightly to her agenda and the bag she has containing everything else she thinks will help her make her case and steps into the conference room. Congressman Garrett isn't there, just a young man in a suit, smiling at her. "Have a seat, Miss Simmons."

"Doctor," she says tightly but sits anyway. "Where's the Congressman?"

"In a meeting." The man holds a hand out to her. "I'm Grant Ward, his personal assistant. He's asked me to meet with his constituents today in his place."

Jemma frowns, debating. "I would prefer-"

"He's unavailable at the moment," Ward says and gets to his feet, walking over to a side table by the window. He picks up a blender and sloshes a thick, greenish substance into a glass. "Smoothie?"

"No," Jemma replies shortly. "Thank you." She adds this as an afterthought, figuring that it's in her best interest to actually play nice with the people in charge of helping fund her department.

Ward shrugs, sipping from his glass and sitting once more. "So, what can we do for you?" He looks at her politely. "You're here with the…uh…CDC, right?"

Jemma shakes her head. "No…well…yes. A branch of the CDC, I suppose," she says. "We're tasked primarily with studying the diseases that were previously believed to have been eradicated through vaccines or other methods but which are starting to show up again, mostly in isolated cases. For now. But-"

"How can we help?" Ward interrupts and that polite look is still on his face and Jemma grits her teeth and has to refrain from throwing her agenda right at his face. She's well versed in what it looks like when someone isn't listening to her.

"Our budget. It's been…re-allocated to another source," Jemma says bluntly. "Military, I believe. I was hoping that the congressman could convince Congress to reconsider and return funding. Without it…well…we'll have to shut down."

Ward gives her a practiced sympathetic look. "I'm sorry to hear that, Miss Simmons. I'll be sure to pass your request along to Congressman Garrett."

"It's Doctor," she says through gritted teeth. "And I don't think you understand. Without funding we can't study a single strain of a single virus. We won't know why these diseases are returning or how they've changed in a modern environment or how to create a cure or-"

"Understood," Ward says breezily. "I do have to say that right now the government is more interested in funding military endeavors because that's the type of world we live in these days, right?" He flashes Jemma a smile, which she doesn't return. "I think your little branch is unnecessary now, don't you?"

Jemma gives him a look. "Are you serious?" It's a rhetorical question, of course, because Jemma already knows the answer.

Ward is already getting to his feet, gesturing for Jemma to do the same so he can escort her back out to the waiting room. "I promise I'll relay your message to Garrett," he says as they walk to the door. Jemma wants to dig in her heels and resist but she's pretty sure it won't make much of a difference. "Maybe if your program had more…pizazz? A big discovery? Something flashy? That might catch people's attention."

Jemma scowls. "I would think ensuring that polio doesn't return would be snazzy enough."

Her comment seems to go unnoticed. Ward is already all but pushing her back out into the waiting room and grinning and waving at the guys in suits. The door to the conference room slams shut behind them and Jemma isn't entirely sure what just happened.

Commotion over by the secretary's desk provides a much needed distraction. The secretary is clearly trying to maintain her composure as she talks to the woman standing on the other side of the desk. "I understand, ma'am, but-"

"I don't think you do understand!" The woman protests and smacks her palms down onto the desk. "I need to get in there to see the congressman now! It's a matter of, like, global security."

The secretary looks doubtful of this fact. "You'll have to make an appointment like everyone else. I can get you in next month at-"

"I can't wait until next month!" The woman protests. "I need to get in there now."

Jemma can't help but scoff and two heads turn in her direction. "Good luck. The congressman isn't even in there."

It takes Jemma only a second to realize the girl in front of the desk as the same young woman she just saw in the news. The one with blood on her, presumably from an exploding head.

Jemma's a smart woman. The wheels in her head turn quickly, which has always suited her well and helped her accomplish the multitude of things she's set out to do. She doesn't know why this situation can't be any different.

She stands up straighter and walks over toward the woman. "I'm Dr. Simmons." She holds out her hand. "Perhaps I might be able to help?"

* * *

 

It doesn't take Jemma very long to start regretting her decision. She's a smart woman, after all.

Daisy seems friendly enough, if a bit addled -which is fair enough given the fact that she did just witness a spontaneous head explosion. Allegedly. Jemma still isn't sure she can get on board with the whole heading exploding thing. But Daisy does seem friendly enough, so Jemma agrees to have their 'meeting' at Daisy's apartment. Jemma knows this is probably a dumb decision but she did bring her mace with her; she'd packed it in her bag with the rest of her stuff because, you know, politicians.

"Sorry, it's really hectic in here right now," Daisy says as she holds the door open for Jemma. "We've been busy."

"Who's we?" Jemma questions, holding the bag in her hands a little tighter.

"I live here with Lincoln and Mack," Daisy explains and then makes a face. "Well, just Mack now. Mack has been helping me try and sort some of this stuff out."

When Daisy said things were 'hectic' it was a bit of an understatement. There are papers everywhere, blankets strewn across the floor and take out containers piled on the coffee table. The living room seems to be the HQ for whatever craziness Jemma has stepped into, which is nice because that means that she can run out the front door if she really needs to.

There's a guy sitting cross-legged on the floor, trying to sort through some of the papers. Jemma assumes that this is Mack but he doesn't pay much attention to her until Daisy clears her throat and announces, "I found a scientist."

Mack looks up at her, surprised. "Uh…Daisy…"

"Okay, I'm not crazy. I'm not." Daisy says this to both Mack and Jemma, looking at them both entreatingly. She's aware that she sounds a lot like Lincoln did right before he died. "I told you what he said and we found all of this research in his room and-"

"It's not really research," Mack says and he looks at Jemma almost apologetically. "It's more like the ramblings of someone who really needs to sleep for twenty-four straight hours."

Jemma holds up a hand. "Okay, I need someone to catch me up here," she begs. "Daisy hasn't really explained anything and…" She trails off because she really doesn't want to admit that she just followed a stranger to her apartment because she thought investigating exploding heads or some crazy epidemic was a great way to get attention for some government funding.

Daisy and Mack exchange looks and Daisy takes a deep breath. "Okay, so I know this sounds crazy but you need to hear me out…" She pauses and Jemma feels a sense of nervous anticipation. "Space bugs."

That's when Jemma really starts to regret her decision.

* * *

 

Daisy tells them what Lincoln said in perfect detail; it's not hard, there was only so much he got out before the head explosion. When she got back yesterday, escorted to the door by an officer who looked like he didn't want to touch her for fear of getting unmentionable substances on his uniform, she hadn't wasted time crying or carrying on. She'd just told Mack what had happened, as calmly as she could, and then insisted that they tear Lincoln's room apart for signs of what had happened to him. At first, Mack only seemed interested in helping her because he'd been sure this was some bizarre step to the grieving process no one had figured out yet: step six, invent a conspiracy. But then they'd found papers on Lincoln's desk, piled up on his bed and on the floor. They'd found a handheld radio he'd tampered with and his laptop logged into some site for other conspiracy theorists who were busy talking about how strange DC had become recently.

Which, you know, was saying something.

After that, Mack had become a little more invested in what they were doing. After insisting that Daisy take a shower and change her clothes.

More than anything, Daisy feels overwhelming guilty. Not because she couldn't help Lincoln because there really wasn't anything anyone could do for…that. But because she and Mack hadn't realized that Lincoln was embroiled in all this until after he was already gone.

The first thing Daisy could think to do was go to the government and beg them to look into Lincoln's death, to study it and get to the bottom of things -of the space bugs side of things- and make sure that they put a stop to any invading life force, however small they might be. Of course that had gone over about as well as she knew it would thanks to all the sci-fi movies she watched as a kid. But then she'd met Dr. Jemma Simmons and her luck had improved.

Well, Daisy hopes her luck is improving anyway.

Jemma doesn't exactly look like she's ready to jump on board with all of this.

"Lincoln has been studying this for weeks," Daisy says and that guilt is back. She grabs one of Lincoln's journals and tries to hand it over to Jemma. "He's been studying people, trying to figure out who might be infected and who isn't and-"

Jemma looks at her like the officer looked at her yesterday when she was still covered in blood and other unmentionable substances. "What did Lincoln do for a living?" She asks this causally but Daisy is pretty sure what she's really asking is 'was he fucking crazy all day or just after he got off work?'

"He worked for a shipping company," Daisy explains. "You know, the people who load and unload ships when they bring in exports and stuff." She shrugs. "He thinks that's where the bugs came from: one of the crates. There was one from Russia."

"Russia." Jemma's expression is hard to read.

Daisy shrugs. "He said that was where all the weirdness started." She waves the journal at Jemma again. "He wrote it all down."

Jemma doesn't say anything and neither does Mack. Not that Daisy needs their feedback. She owes it to Lincoln to figure out what's really going on here. "I've started a spread sheet listing all of the weird behaviors he noticed in people and the weird behaviors I noticed in him…when I didn't really realize anything was going on. But I can show it-"

"Wait," Jemma says, holding up a hand, "didn't this just happen yesterday? How have you already made this much headway?"

Daisy frowns. "Well you don't exactly feel much like sleeping after seeing someone's head explode," she deadpans.

Jemma doesn't argue with this very valid point.

But she still doesn't seem convinced, even as she looks through the spreadsheet Daisy has created. "No offense but I really don't see how any of these things could prove an alien invasion. People do these things all the time: exercising, listening to The Cars, drinking healthy smoothies…"

She pauses, remembering Congressman Garrett's assistant and his unappetizing drink of choice. Jemma frowns slightly.

Of course, Daisy notices. "What?"

"Nothing." Jemma passes the computer back to her. "I just don't know what you expect me to do here." She picks up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'm sorry about your friend, I really am. But I'm a scientist, I study diseases and…I just don't think there's anything I can do to help." She's had a lot of practice finding a nicer way to say the things she really wants to say. She's pretty sure 'this is absolute madness and I'm getting the hell out of here' probably wouldn't go over very well. "I'm sorry."

Jemma starts for the door and Daisy hurries after her. "Wait! I thought you were going to help!" She protests. "I thought you were going to help us figure out-"

"There's nothing I can do," Jemma interrupts before this craziness can go any further. "I…I'm sorry." Daisy is looking at her so desperately, so helplessly that Jemma almost feels bad for leaving. "I…I can't do anything to help without a specimen anyway."

There, that oughta soften the blow. She pleased with herself for finding such a workable excuse.

But Daisy only brightens. "So if I found one of the space bugs then you would help?"

Jemma forces a smile onto her face because Daisy did just witness the death of her friend so certain care should be taken in this situation. "Sure."

When Jemma leaves, she feels relieved and exhausted. It's hard to believe that only hours before she was preparing to meet with her congressman in hopes of getting the budget for her program reinstated. And after that…well…what she really needs is a strong drink.

But Jemma can't help but get the feeling that Daisy feels energized and emboldened by her parting comment. Like she's been given a job to do.

* * *

 

Jemma doesn't have much time to think about space bugs and Daisy's predicament for the next several days. She has her own predicaments to worry about, namely figuring out how to keep her research going and her team together.

Three days after her encounter with Daisy, Jemma goes into the office to find two of her coworkers standing around the TV in the breakroom watching another news report on an exploding head. Jemma lingers, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her chest. The report goes into one about the increase in government spending for military operations and that just puts a sour taste in her mouth.

"It's over," one of her colleagues, Elena, says mournfully when she walks into Jemma's office an hour later, "they're shutting us down."

Jemma clinches her jaw. "Already?"

Elena shrugs. "The budget…I just spoke with Director Coulson, he said there's nothing we can do."

Jemma mutters to herself as she gets to her feet, leaving a report on the _Cochliomyia_ on her desk and she marches herself down to Coulson's office.

She's known the man for half a decade, when he'd hired her out of university to come head his department. That type of history makes her feel like she can let herself into Coulson's office without bothering to knock. Coulson is sitting at his desk, listening to "You Might Think" on his computer and looking almost like he expected her to come waltzing in. He looks remarkably calm, given the circumstances.

"Sir," Jemma begins without preamble, "please tell me I heard incorrectly: we're shutting down now?"

Coulson shrugs, holding up his hands, palms up, to announce his defeat. "There's nothing we can do. Our budget is gone."

"I thought we had several more months at least." Jemma feels a little bit like a petulant child, one second away from stomping her foot and demanding more justice in the world. "I don't understand."

Coulson sighs and looks at her sympathetically. "We don't have control over those things. The government-"

Jemma groans and the foot stomping may or may not happen. She will neither confirm nor deny. "There has to be something we can do."

"You can start packing your office," Coulson says and not unkindly. His expression softens. "I'm sorry, Dr. Simmons."

Jemma feels the frustration continue to build inside her as she stares at Coulson, trying to figure out why her usually passionate boss is rolling over and showing his stomach so easily. Coulson reaches for a glass on the edge of his desk, taking a sip. Jemma wrinkles her nose. "What is that?"

"Kale smoothie," Coulson tells her, seeming pleased with himself. "I can make you one if you want."

Jemma shakes her head, taking a step backward. "No, that's all right."

During the walk back to her office, Jemma just curses Daisy under her breath as though all of this is somehow her fault.

* * *

 

"This is dumb," Mack says flatly with the resignation of someone who knows his opinion really doesn't matter.

"I know," Daisy says almost gleefully and with the levity of someone who knows she's going to do something stupid anyway. "But think about it: Lincoln was infected in this apartment so it stands to reason that the bugs have been here before and might come back."

Mack scrubs a hand across his face. "Daisy…" He frowns as he studies her. "Why are you trying to catch one of these things?" He figures it might be best to just try and ease into this conversation.

"You heard Jemma: she can't do anything without a specimen so if we want to get her help we need to have something for her to study." Daisy looks at him like he's the crazy one.

Mack looks at her skeptically. "So this is about you trying to get Jemma to come back?"

Daisy furrows her brow. "No. What? This doesn't have anything to do with her." Sure she's pretty but there are more important things to focus on, like how fortuitous it was for her to run into a doctor right when she needed one most. Now she just needs to hold up her end of things.

"So this is about Lincoln," Mack continues on in a gentle tone of voice that sounds like he learned it from an Internet video about helping people grieving. "Daisy, I get that you're upset that he's gone but it's not healthy to just throw yourself into this…delusional project…"

Daisy lets him talk without really listening. She knows everything he's saying anyway because it totally makes sense. Space bugs and alien invaders sound absolutely crazy, Daisy doesn't want to believe it herself. But something is going on here and she's going to get to the bottom of it, thanks to the notes that Lincoln left behind. So she just lets Mack talk, nodding at the right times and all the while planning on how to capture one of these tricky space bugs.

It's barely past six in the morning when Daisy knocks on Mack's bedroom door impatiently until he throws it open. She holds up the shoebox in her hand. "I got one."

Mack only stares at her, uncomprehending, and that expression doesn't change even after he's looked inside the box.

"Huh," is all he can say. Which seems fitting; Daisy isn't really sure there's more to it than that.

* * *

 

The Uber driver is listening to The Cars a little too loudly but Jemma doesn't really feel like getting into it with the guy driving her back to her apartment with his trunk loaded up with her work stuff in boxes. He pulls up outside of her brownstone and pops the trunk, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the music on the radio. Jemma thanks him and gets out of the car, only to see Daisy sitting on the stoop.

She ignores her as she slowly unloads all her things. She isn't in the mood for hearing about aliens or space bugs or whatever crazy ideas that Daisy has which have made her suspicious of every single person she's crossed for the past week. Seriously, Jemma is not a fan of paranoia, especially when it's ridiculous and unfounded and based primarily around kale smoothies.

Once Jemma's boxes are in a pile, the Uber driver disappears down the street and Daisy hops off the stone stairs and over to Jemma. "I can help you carry your stuff." She peers at the boxes and then looks curiously are Jemma. "Are you moving?"

"No," Jemma says shortly but she doesn't refuse Daisy's offer for help. But she does ask, "What are you doing here?" in a weary tone that she hopes Daisy will pick up on and not take as an invitation to start talking about space bugs.

"I got one of the space bugs."

No such luck apparently.

Jemma blinks at her. "You what?"

Daisy reaches into her bag and pulls out a shoe box duct-taped closed. She looks victorious and Jemma enviously wishes that feeling was contagious. "You said you couldn't help until I found a specimen for you to study. Well, ta da."

Jemma looks at the taped-up shoe box and then at all the other boxes around her, which are far more disheartening. She decides to focus on those first. "Help me get these things into my apartment."

Daisy does so without complaint and when they're sitting in Jemma's living room, she finally peels the tape off the box and hands it over to Jemma. Jemma peers inside and crinkles her nose. "Huh."

It seems as good a thing to say as any.

* * *

 

Jemma is feeling pretty good about things after studying the specimen that Daisy brought her.

Well, that's only half true. She's feeling a little pessimistic about the whole alien invasion thing because it does look like there might be some credence to that after all and no one really wants to be invaded even by something as tiny as the space bug Daisy has captured.

But on the other hand, she's feeling pretty good about her chances of getting enough grant money to open up her laboratory again and rehire her team. The government will definitely want to fund the person helping them study alien invaders, right?

Jemma thinks so.

Not that she really knows anything about the thing Daisy has brought her, aside from the fact that it's definitely alien and…well…that's about it right now.

They order takeout and take a break, taping the shoebox back up. Jemma figures this is a good precaution against losing such an important specimen but Daisy is quick to point out, "We don't want it getting into one of us."

Right. Jemma hadn't considered that.

While they wait for their food to get here, they sit out on Jemma's balcony, drinking the rest of the wine she had in her fridge. Jemma can't remember the last time she had someone over, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But still it's nice to have Daisy there. It beats drinking alone.

"So here's what we know so far," Daisy says after a few minutes of watching the DC traffic in silence, "definitely alien. Definitely small enough to get into someone's ear."

Jemma lifts an eyebrow. "What makes you think they get in through the ear?"

Daisy shrugs. "It kinda makes sense with the head explosions." There have been a total of five since Lincoln's and the government is denying any connection or any cause for panic. Jemma thinks it could be something her team could study if they hadn't just been shut down. "But we have to assume that most of the…possessions? Invasions? That most of them have been successful. So why are some heads exploding and others aren't?"

"It could be the same with anything," Jemma answers before she can stop to think about the fact that she's discussing alien invasions on her balcony with someone she hardly knows. "Some people just have adverse reactions to things. A flu vaccine is fine in a thousand people but then you're going to have one person who just can't process it."

Daisy nods thoughtfully and Jemma thinks it is nice to have someone who actually listens to her. It makes her think of stupid Grant Ward and his pathetically sweet smile on his stupid, dumb face as he was actively ignoring her. She frowns at the memory.

"I think we have to assume that most of DC is infected with space bugs," Daisy says frankly.

Jemma nearly spits out her wine. "That's quite the conclusion," she says primly. What she means is 'that escalated quickly.'

Daisy shrugs. "Haven't you noticed how different people are acting? I mean aren't you watching the congressional debates? It's crazy."

"That's exactly why I don't watch that stuff," Jemma says and feels pretty smug about it.

"Well I work in the Senate building, doing IT for the politicians so I don't have that kind of luxury." Daisy finishes her wine like she needs it to fortify her against the memories of her job. "But lately it's been…different. Everyone is getting along, talking nicely, trying to work together…there's this one committee member who is drunk like ninety percent of the time. A real Don Draper type. But recently…fruit and vegetable smoothies and water." Daisy shrugs. "He's always given me the creeps but now I avoid being alone with him because I think he's going to shove a space bug in my ear."

Jemma frowns. "You think that's how this works? They infect each other?"

Daisy can only shrug. "It would make it easier, right? Save them the time of having to climb through everyone's bedroom window."

"But why DC?" Jemma muses, though she doesn't really expect an answer to her question. Anything she and Daisy could say would just be a shot in the dark and the space bug isn't talking.

Daisy taps the side of her head. "If you're going to take over the world, don't you want to focus on the people in charge?"

Jemma makes a thoughtful noise. "Okay, let me suspend disbelief for a minute," she says as pragmatically as possible because it is a lot to wrap her scientific mind around. "There are parasites that can infect a host and take over its brain and bodily functions: _Ophiocordyceps unilateralis_ and the like." She glances at Daisy who just nods. "These…space bugs could be parasites, getting into the host mind and controlling how we think, what we say, how we act, what we eat…what we do…"

Jemma isn't entirely sure she wants to continue thinking about this. It's all too John Carpenter for her, not to mention if it's a reality then she's not sure she's equipped to deal with it.

Daisy purses her lips, glancing out toward the city thoughtfully. She watches as the traffic moves steadily through the serpentine roads, surprisingly peaceful. Everyone has seemed so even-keel and pleasant lately and Jemma wishes that didn't feel as ominous as it suddenly does.

"If they had a hive mentality that would explain why they all seem interested in the same things," Daisy says. "The healthy eating and drinking, that stupid song-"

"What song?" Jemma lifts an eyebrow.

Daisy puffs out her cheeks in an exhale. "You mean you haven't noticed that horrible Cars song everywhere? It's like I can't get it out of my head, everyone is always listening to it," she groans. Jemma still looks confused so Daisy sings a few bars of "You Might Think" and Jemma does recognize it: Coulson was listening to it earlier and her Uber driver only hours before.

As Daisy finishes singing, the shoebox on the coffee table falls to the floor and they both turn around; they can hear a scratching sound in the box, like the space bug is attempting to get out.

"I guess it likes your singing," Jemma mumbles, getting up and following Daisy into the living room.

Carefully they open the box and though the space bug is still now, it perks up a bit when Daisy sings another line of the song. "I think we might be onto something," Daisy muses. "Beware anyone listening to the Cars."

She tries to make it sound like a joke but it really isn't that funny. Unfortunately.

"We need more specimens," Jemma says thoughtfully as she and Daisy roll another several feet of tape around the box. "We need someone actually infected…we need to study how the brain changes on the effects of the possession."

Daisy shrugs. "So we need to find someone infected with space bugs. Where do we start?"

Jemma lets out a thoughtful noise. "I think I have an idea…"

At that moment, her doll bell rings and they both jump, laughing, embarrassed, by their own reactions. Even still, Jemma is glad to have Daisy there beside her as she goes to pay for the food. As Jemma is signing the receipt, Daisy asks, "So, how do you feel about the Cars?"

The delivery person just looks at Daisy like she's lost her mind. It's a fair observation.

* * *

 

They stay up too late eating and drinking and laughing and it feels good and the city looks so pretty from her balcony and Jemma doesn't understand why she doesn't come out here more often. They don't talk about space bugs anymore which makes it feel almost like she and Daisy were brought together by totally innocent circumstances, like they would have somehow found their way here to this balcony without exploding heads and aliens invading Washington DC.

They're out of wine, which is probably a good thing considering that Jemma already has a bit of a headache going. They make their way inside and Jemma gets them both glasses of water. "I lost my job today," Jemma blurts out as she sits next to Daisy on the couch. She doesn't know what makes her say it but it feels good to admit it out loud. "The government cut our funding. And I think my boss is possessed by space bugs."

Daisy somehow manages to laugh quietly and look sympathetic at the same time. She pats Jemma's shoulder and then decides to just lay her head against her instead. Jemma likes the weight of her.

"Think of it this way," Daisy mumbles against her shoulder, "once you save the world from space bugs, the government will probably give you all the money you want."

Jemma frowns, looking at the ice cubes in her glass. "I…I thought that too. I knew our funding was getting cut and when I saw you in the congressman's office that day, I thought if I helped you then I could get them to give my department more money."

Daisy only shrugs. "I'm glad you decided to help. Even if it was for selfish reasons." She's teasing and it makes Jemma smile.

She's glad too, even if it means having an alien in a shoebox in her living room.

Or something.

* * *

 

The next day, Jemma goes with Daisy to the Capitol building to the wing where the congressional offices are located. She has a fancy badge, which gets them in the door without a single batted eye. Everyone is eerily pleasant and calm, standing around watching C-SPAN and MSNBC and drinking water while the coffee carts remain largely unvisited. The line for the small Arden's Garden is longer than necessary, which gives credence to Daisy's theory about most of Washington being inhabited by space bugs.

"So your plan is kidnapping," Daisy says as soon as they're alone in one of the hallways leading to the office space. "Kidnapping a grown man who also works for a congressman."

Jemma hesitates and then nods. "Yes, I suppose that's the long and short of it," she admits. "But only if he's an alien."

"Are you going to ask him?" Daisy smirks and Jemma doesn't dignify that comment with a response.

They don't have to ask him. When they find Grant Ward in his office, he's tapping along to "You Might Think" and nursing a kale smoothie.

Also, for the record, it's surprisingly easy to kidnap someone and abscond with them across the National Mall. Daisy isn't sure if that's because of the aliens or if it's always been this way. She'll have to write a letter to the head of security when all of this is done.

* * *

 

The space bug inside of Ward's brain is surprisingly talkative. Jemma assumes that comes from being the most advanced, intelligent life force in the room. Not that the news they get from Ward is particularly heartening. Yes the aliens are planning an occupation, yes resistance is futile, yes it's nearly impossible to get the bugs out of their hosts once they've latched in, yes the invaders are planning on making the humans the best species they can be -healthy and polite and all that- seeing as they have to live in them. Yes, their numbers are spreading and there's no stopping them.

Really uplifting stuff. Daisy is glad they've been able to have this conversation.

Unfortunately, Ward and his alien friend offer no insight on the Cars obsession. Daisy tries not to be disappointed.

Once the interrogation is over, they let Ward go. Really, what other choice is there? Jemma doesn't feel like committing murder trying to remove the space bug from his brain, especially when she's already kidnapped someone and it's not even lunch time. She also doesn't feel like keeping Ward tied up in her living room because, space bug or no, he doesn't seem like a particularly pleasant person to be around.

Lunch is a solemn affair of Chinese leftovers and Jemma is glad that she has Daisy there to keep her company. Especially if the end of the world is imminent.

"This really sucks," Daisy says eloquently and Jemma nods her agreement. "What are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to keep ourselves from being infected? How are we supposed to know if the people we try to get help from are really working with the space bugs?"

Ward had mentioned that the aliens disliked the term 'space bugs' but it hasn't really made an impact.

"We'll just have to work together," Jemma says. "We can trust each other and that's a start."

Daisy smiles and it has a strange way of making Jemma feel a little better about things. In a short-term way, of course. But still, it helps.

* * *

 

Daisy decides to head back to her apartment and check on Mack and grab some of Lincoln's research and a few things of her own. She can work from her laptop, which will buy her a little time when it comes to her job. She's not in the mood to fix technical issues for a bunch of space bugs masquerading as congressmen right now. When Mack sees her, he asks her where she's been and she ignores the look he gives her when she tells him she was at Jemma's the night before. She doesn't have time for explanations; she's more focused on warning Mack to avoid health conscious people with an 80's obsession.

Mack knows her well enough to not even question her comments anymore.

When Daisy lets herself into Jemma's apartment, the first thing she hears is "You Might Think" emanating from laptop speakers. The shoebox containing the space bug is open and empty and Daisy feels a panic unlike any she's known before take over her body. It's worse than watching Lincoln's head explode and that's saying something because that was a particularly shitty moment.

"Jemma!" Daisy drops her stuff by the front door and hurries toward the kitchen, where she finds Jemma standing by the counter. "Jemma!"

But she gets no response and that doesn't do much to help her panic and Daisy reaches forward, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a shake. Jemma looks at her, her expression one of perfect surprise. She reaches up, taking an ear plug out of her ear, eyes wide. "Daisy, what's the matter?"

It's then that Daisy sees the space bug in a Tupperware container on the counter, moving all around like an 80s-loving maniac. Daisy lets out a slow breath and thinks she might just lay down on the floor and die. She can't handle this much panic coursing through her body, it's not natural.

"I thought…I heard the song and I didn't see the bug and…I thought…" Daisy shakes her head, stepping away from Jemma. "Never mind. Sorry."

Daisy steps out on the balcony, clutching the railing and exhaling slowly, through her teeth. She still feels a little bit like she might throw up thanks to the twenty seconds she spent thinking that Jemma had become a space bug. Not a good thought at all.

She hears footsteps behind her and Jemma puts a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry I scared you," Jemma says softly. "I just wanted to see how it reacted to the song and it's easier to study in the clear container and-"

Jemma doesn't finish because Daisy is pulling her into a tight hug, the type of embrace that suggests it might last a while.

Jemma really doesn't mind.

"You have to be careful," Daisy says softly, holding her tighter. "It's you and me against the space bug invasion, remember? I can't do this without you."

"I know." Jemma nods and closes her eyes, savoring the feeling of having Daisy in her arms. "You don't have to worry. We'll figure this out."

Really, neither of them believe that. But they're both too polite to say anything, too in love with the idea of a happy ending and saving the world and all that jazz.

After all, who doesn't love a happy ending?


End file.
